


You've Got a Face Like Sunshine

by Ellis_Sullivan



Series: I Should Ink My Skin With Your Name [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Soulmate AU, but i can't really bring myself to care, i fucking love these dorks, they've taken over my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellis_Sullivan/pseuds/Ellis_Sullivan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On soulmates, tattoos, and polyamory</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got a Face Like Sunshine

Being born with two tattoos was practically unheard of, and people loved reminding Joly of the fact. 

The delicate words circling his left wrist often caught most people’s attention, had them ooh-ing and aww-ing over the saccharine words written in lovely, looping handwriting. “Do you happen to have a moment to spare because I don’t think I can leave without at least talking to you--” they coo. “You lucky man.” Joly nods and laughs nervously, sliding his hand up his neck to brush over the skin at the base of his hairline.

Those who see the small, tidy script on his neck have an entirely different reaction. “Shit, you are fucking adorable I just want to feed you candy and fuck you senseless,” they giggle. “At least they’re honest.” Joly usually smiles and shrugs as he brushes his thumb over his wrist.

Those who find both tattoos regard him with something like suspicion. “Oh,” they murmur. “Oh. I’d never have-- I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of them. Huh.” Joly usually frowns, wanting to remind these people that it wasn’t like he’d tattooed himself. But by the time he regains enough composure to explain to them the concept of soulmate tattoos, they’ve found an excuse to exit the conversation, or left without explanation.

Part of Joly wonders why people have such an opposition to the idea of his having more than one special person. Is it bred of ignorance or jealousy? Most of the time, he tries not to think too hard about it-- about how much easier it would be if he had them with him, how much simpler it’d be to explain his tattoos with his lovers supporting him. 

He wishes that he could display his ink proudly without worrying about being heckled. He wishes that when he told others he had two soulmates, they didn’t eye him with thinly veiled disdain.

Joly pushes those thoughts aside as he stands. 

No more brooding, he decides. I won’t give them the satisfaction.

Just as he’s about to leave, he feels a large, calloused hand encircle his left wrist and a bolt of heat goes through. He whirls around and comes face to the tallest, prettiest man he’s ever seen in his life. He wears an obviously well-loved flannel over a Nirvana t-shirt. One of his shoes is untied, he is completely bald despite looking like he’s 23, and he is perfect.

“Do you have a moment to spare because I don’t think I can let you leave without at least talking to you--” the man says in a rush. 

“You have a face like sunshine; can I touch it?” Joly interrupts, blushing immediately after the words come out of his mouth. 

The man lets go of Joly’s wrist like he’s been burned. He opens his mouth to speak just as Joly stumbles through the doorway and into the street.

“Wait!” the man shouts, rushing after Joly. “I think you’re one of my-- Shit!!”

The man trips over his untied shoelace and goes down in a flurry of elbows and knees, taking the beautiful, curly-haired waitress with him. The man groaned, and the flushed as he realized his face was buried in the woman’s bosom.

“Look, you’re really cute and all, but you don’t get to motorboat me until at least the third date,” the woman says with an unimpressed look. The man lifts his head and stares at her with unabashed wonder. Slowly, he tucks a curl back behind her ear and breathes, “This might be the luckiest day of my life.”

The waitress’ eyes get big, and she gives a stuttering laugh. “Nice to finally meet you, soulmate. I’m Musichetta,” she says as she pulls her hair back to show what Joly assumes is her tattoo. The beautiful man grins widely, wiggling his tattooed fingers at her. 

“Lesgles, but my friends call me Bossuet,” he replies. He then turns to Joly. “But I also have--” Bossuet turns his other palm out-- the palm that had felt so warm on his skin just moments before-- and Joly sees a flash of black ink. Musichetta squints at it before a lazy grin curls the corners of her mouth.

“You have a face like sunshine; can I touch it?” she reads. “Sounds like we’ve got a cutie coming our way.”

Joly feels as if he’s rooted in place.

“I’m your-- You’re my-- I don’t--” he stutters.

Without a word, Musichetta crawls out from underneath Bossuet and makes her way over to where Joly stands.

Looping her arms around his neck, she brings them nose to nose and smiles. “Shit, you are so fucking adorable I just want to feed you candy and fuck you senseless,” she whispers to him. Joly feels heat spread from where the inside of her elbow touches the back of his neck and he looks at her with undisguised awe. 

“I think I could fall in love with you,” he tells her softly. She grins at him and removes her arm so she can roll up her sleeve the the elbow. Inside the crook of her arms, written in Joly’s tiny, jagged writing, were the words he just said.

“I’m glad to hear it, soulmate,” she said. “Because you don’t really have a choice.”


End file.
